


Perfecting the Craft (Through A Series of Workshops)

by reliablemachine



Category: Inception (2010) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliablemachine/pseuds/reliablemachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe and Tom met via a one-night-stand back in 2003 during Tom's run of Blood in London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfecting the Craft (Through A Series of Workshops)

Joe doesn’t meet Tom on the set of Inception, contrary to what a lot of people believe, and what Joe lets them believe — in reality, he meets him six years earlier in London when Tom’s in the midst of running Blood at the Royal Court Theatre.

Joe has heard of Tom Hardy, watched him in Band of Brothers and Nemesis and was impressed and intrigued. When he reads Tom is in a stage production in London just when he happens to be in town, Joe obviously has to go see it.

He ends up at a pub downtown after the show, and lo and behold, Tom and his friend saunter in and take up a booth across the bar from Joe, who totally does _not_ purposely try to pick up Tom by leering at him from under his eyelashes, not at all (though having just released Mysterious Skin, Joe can say with some confidence that his Sex Eyes are superb and effective).

Naturally, Joe ends up naked on his back in Tom’s bed later that night, and there’s more than a little booze involved and everything is hot and wet and sweat-slick, and Joe remembers trying to have a Serious Conversation about their mutual craft at first, critiquing the lighting director for the play and questioning Tom’s method as Tom thrusts into him.

“What I've found, though, is it helps to know the company beforehand, d'you know what I mean? Less orchestration of chemistry, right,” Tom says later, breathy and panting across Joe’s back. “I really try to build up a character _nhnnngggg_ and th— and then it's just natural.”

“Ffffuck you, don't fffuckin’ stop,” is all Joe remembers answering.

When they’re done, what seems like hours later, Tom says, "You've got to get out of here, I have to be at the gym at 6am."

Joe's legs are all shaky and he's still panting and he can't believe he just _fucked Tom Hardy_ and wants to do it again as soon as possible, but Tom really does make him go.

"Maybe we'll be in a film together one day," he says, and winks and Joe dimples and goes back to his hotel to make a giddy hitrecord video.

##

Fast-forward to 2009.

When Joe signs onto Inception, all he knows is that Leo is in it and Chris is directing it (and therefore the regulars are in it, Michael Caine and Cillian). When he first sees Tom Fucking Hardy across a crowd of crew members, he thinks he’s hallucinating but he’s not, and Tom’s so casual and just smirks at him then walks away.

Tom is remarkably hard to get alone — Pnut is always trailing him like his personal bodyguard — but eventually a month or two into filming, Joe’s on the way back to the set after buying an overly complicated coffee at Lamill and Tom is standing on a corner waiting for a traffic light, shirt off, avs on, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He’s about five thousand times burlier than the last time Joe saw him in person, six years ago, and Joe is totally straight now, seriously, totally into girls and stuff.

"You've been working out," Joe says when he stops next to Tom, and Tom barely even looks at him.

"More stamina for when I fuck you in my trailer later."

"I'm not into guys," says Joe, but he can feel his ears turning pink.

"Oh yeah, okay."

The light goes yellow then red then the pedestrian Walk sign flashes and Tom branches off to go a different direction.

"Nine thirty, I'll leave it unlocked," he calls over his shoulder, and Joe is left wondering how he just let himself get picked up by Tom Hardy without even doing anything.

He does end up in Tom’s trailer, though, drinks a beer then gets his ass handed to him in Tom’s bedroom, muscles already sore after a day of harness work and burning when Tom’s done with him, head full of hazy swear words and Tom’s new and improved acting advice.

Which leads us to today.

##

Joe's been doing harness shit for like two weeks straight, amid being fucked senseless in the back of Tom's trailer, so he's totally ruined and Chris gives him a week or so off from shooting; he hangs out in his normal clothes, jeans and t-shirts, scarves and hipster cardigans despite the fact that it's early fall in LA and hot outside.

Meanwhile, everyone else is doing the early scenes, like Eames in Browning's office, so Tom is walking around in a suit a lot, usually with his shirt all open when he's not shooting (his costumer, Natalie, keeps getting mad at him for wrinkling his shirts).

Joe hangs out around the rest of the crew sometimes, in between scheduled massages (because seriously, his fucking muscles) and hanging out in his trailer dicking around on his MacBook and making shit on hitrecord.

Tom is infuriatingly distant when he's working, totally into his acting and it's actually unbelievably sexy, both because of Joe's deep-seeded respect for him actor-wise, and because seeing him stalk around like a caged tiger — a huge, thick, beefy tiger — makes Joe's dick hard, and he's kind of a huge fan of edging himself all day.

He hangs around the set and tries to pretend he doesn't have a fucking obvious hard-on all the time, and talks to the lights guys and watches Tom out of the corner of his eye, and jerks off in his trailer during the day but doesn't let himself come until the middle of the night when his balls are about explode from his day-long self-cockblocking. He imagines Tom sucking his dick with that filthy mouth, but he barely even has to touch himself before he's coming everywhere, and he does this _every day_.

The worst part is that Tom is really intense into his training and shooting, and since he's all burly from his earlier Warrior training, his body is used to that kind of stress so he goes to the gym with Pnut every morning and Joe can't find a time when he's alone, and it's driving him _insane_. He's never been one of those super horny nympho-type people, but he hasn't been laid in over a week and it's killing him.

He almost resorts to calling Lexy and getting her to meet him somewhere in LA so he'll at least get a sloppy BJ in some public washroom somewhere, but then: a miracle in the form of Tom Fucking Hardy hanging around outside his trailer, smoking and leading Max around to a patch of grass to pee.

Joe follows him and is glad he got a pack of emergency cigarettes last weekend because it looks less shady when he pulls one out and starts sucking on it.

"Hey," Tom says when he gets closer, and Joe feels himself getting hard already.

"So uh, how's the gym?" Joe asks lamely, and Tom ignores him, turns and walks farther when Max pulls at his leash. Joe follows, blows smoke against the breeze.

"Are you done shooting?" he asks, and Tom laughs at him.

"Quit beating around the bush, Joseph, just fucking ask, you've got bollocks, I've seen them."

"Okay… Wanna fuck?"

"Sure."

Tom doesn't make any move to actually go back to his trailer though, just stands there smoking and making Joe harder every time he wraps those lips around the end of his cigarette.

"What, right here?" Joe snubs out his cigarette on the pavement and Tom leers at him sideways from under his eyelashes.

"If you'd like," he says, and Joe laughs, giddy and nervous, bridge of his nose turning red because he has a feeling Tom would totally fuck him against the side of his trailer if he asked.

He doesn't, though, finally walks around to the front again and Joe looks around furtively, in case Pnut's going to bust out of no where and kill him with his hands.

Once they're inside, Joe gets more confident — his body isn't as sore anymore, after taking it easy for the past week, and having the tension worked out by a professional down at the studio-owned massage parlour — but Tom is a wild animal, immediately latching onto Joe's neck even as he pulls the curtain shut on his trailer door, sucking a conspicuous mark in a place Joe will have trouble hiding tomorrow, and sticks a knee between Joe's thighs, pushing his legs apart and he almost falls over backwards, shoulder blades hitting the wall next to the door.

Joe squirms under him, presses back every time Tom grinds on him, but Tom is like five thousand times stronger than him, especially right now with his ridiculous brawler body, and he easily overtakes Joe, grabs him behind the back with one hand, the other on his ass, lifting him and dragging him back into the bedroom.

Joe is quick and nimble but Tom is a beast, albeit a sensitive one under normal circumstances, but this isn't a normal circumstance, especially since Joe is going to _actually die_ if he doesn't have Tom's dick in him in the next five minutes, tops.

He whines when Tom dumps him on the bed, and it's strangely reminiscent of essentially every single other time Joe's ever been in Tom's trailer (all visits have ended the same way), so Joe immediately pulls at the fly of his jeans, popping buttons and unzipping as fast as he can, dick straining against the briefs he's glad he wore today (he thinks Tom would probably make fun of him if he found out how often Joe goes commando at work / everywhere. In reality Tom would find it fucking arousing, but Joe doesn't know that).

Tom grabs the waistband of Joe's jeans and yanks them down, dragging Joe along with them part of the way, and Joe whimpers into the sheets, already unbearably hard just from thinking about this for the last _week_ straight, and Tom is being all aggressive which is exactly what Joe didn't even know he likes, something Lexy could never give him even if he knew how to ask, something he hasn't felt since he let Brady Corbet fuck him that one time in 2005 and he turned out to be into spanking ( _really_ into spanking).

Tom's already found a condom from somewhere but he doesn't put it on yet, just throws it down beside Joe and drops his pants to the floor, climbs into bed and turns Joe over onto his back then rubs him through his briefs and watches his face, tongue snaking out every so often to wet his lips.

"Fucking bipolar," Joe mumbles, and Tom squeezes his dick, fabric of his underwear scratching him under Tom's rough fingers.

"Did Chris add a sex scene between you and someone? You seem like you're harbouring a lot of unresolved sexual tension," Joe says, and Tom stares down at him lecherously.

"You mean besides with you, you fucking tease?" Joe raises a sly eyebrow. "You think I didn't notice you grabbing my prick in the hotel set?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joe says flatly, eyes wicked, and just for good measure he shifts and the side of his hand may or may not brush across the entire length of Tom's dick then his thigh before falling back to the bed. Tom growls and Joe feels his cock twitch against his stomach.

Tom grabs Joe's wrists, pulls them together and pins his arms above his head and uses his other hand to hike Joe's pretentious band t-shirt up to his chest, his abs already flexing and moving every time he breathes.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about… Grabbing my arm on the floor—" Tom squeezes around Joe's wrists, big hand and long fingers almost curled all the way around both. "— rubbing your filthy hands all over my suit, getting me in trouble for having a fucking stiffy on set. I've got bruises on my shoulder, you know, from Natalie, my costumer. Your fault."

Joe smirks and wiggles his arms but Tom doesn't let go, and just squeezes harder, and it's starting to hurt now but Joe lives for the tingles it sends down his body.

"Filthy? I wash my hands more than you do."

Tom straddles Joe's thighs, leans down to stick his tongue in Joe's bellybutton and licks a wet line up to his ribs.

"Only when you're not around to do it for me," Tom says, and sticks the index and middle fingers of his free hand into Joe's mouth, presses down on his tongue and Joe makes an embarrassing slurping noise around the sudden intrusion then sucks, tasting salt and nicotine and the remnants of some kind of lemon hand sanitizer.

He tries to say something back, but Tom holds under his chin with his thumb then lets go of Joe's wrists briefly to tear the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it on while Joe watches, head rendered Immobile Due To Fingersucking.

Joe's cock twitches again, almost straining up to touch Tom, but he's still sitting on Joe's thighs, fumbling with the condom until he pulls his fingers out of Joe's mouth, leaving a string of saliva on Joe's chin, and rolls it on all the way.

"You've been bad," he says casually as he settles between Joe's knees and lifts one of his legs up, bends it at the knee and rubs his stubbly cheek on the inside of Joe's thigh. "I've seen you watching me during shooting, it's fucking distracting."

Joe watches him, chews on his bottom lip when a few particularly sharp hairs on Tom's cheek scrape on his leg.

"I thought you were a serious actor," he says, and Tom raises both eyebrows and looks down to maneuver his dick down to press at Joe's ass, just the end of it, barely in, and Joe's breath catches briefly. "You're not distracted by people watching, are you? That's so amateur."

Tom growls again and lifts Joe's other leg, and Joe wraps both of them around Tom's back, hooks his ankles over each other.

"Only when saucy little boys are trying to give me fucking _acting_ advice," Tom says, voice low and dangerous, and Joe is going to get himself in trouble, he knows it.

Joe presses on Tom's lower back with his heels, tries to pull him in farther, but Tom's resisting, holding Joe's hips now and digging fingernails into skin, sending sparks to his stomach, and Joe's masturbation regimen lately has made him overly sensitive with a hair trigger, so when Tom finally digs his knees into the bed and shoves into Joe quickly, Joe comes with a weak moan.

"The fuck, Joseph," Tom says, peering down between them, and sticks a hand behind one of Joe's knees to spread him wider.

"Don't stop…" Joe murmurs, trembling awkwardly.

Tom glares hotly at him but keeps going, pushes Joe's knee up to his chest and holds onto one of his shoulders with his other hand to pull himself in as deep as he can go, and Joe makes embarrassing noises that turn into extended (and even more embarrassing) moans after a few minutes as he regains feeling in his limbs.

Tom shifts his bulk to angle his thrusts upwards, head of his dick pressing against something every so often that makes Joe go temporarily blind and whimper, "Oh my _god_ , what are you doing, _don'tstop don'tstopgod_."

Tom hooks his elbows behind Joe's knees and pants in his face, sweat beading along his hairline and mouth closed until he sucks on Joe's earlobe and says, "Not so distracted now… Thanks for the tip, Joseph."

Joe makes some kind of high-pitched noise and his heels bump against Tom's back as he rocks, and _fuck_ , it's still so sharp and rough and Joe feels his abs starting to burn like he's doing crunches and it's so _good_ , fuck, he wants to feel like this forever, this ache just below the surface, Tom's dick shoved deep in him, skin slick with sweat.

" _hhhgn_ n-no problem," Joe groans, and puts a hand on the back of Tom's neck and kisses him, sucks his ridiculous bottom lip into his mouth and bites it then licks it then bites it again, and Tom makes delicious noises across his cheek then pulls back and stares down at Joe's face as he grabs his hips and jerks into him shallowly for a moment, then comes through a string of _fuck_ s.

Joe's thighs are starting to cramp but Tom drops his legs and puts his hands on Joe's stomach, runs them up to his chest then back down to his dick.

Joe sticks one of his own fingers in his mouth, touches his lips, harsh noises he didn't even know he could make coming from his throat as Tom jerks him off with calloused fingers.

He's pretty sure he moans a lot of filthy shit because Tom's looking at him like he's a porn star, but he's just staring at Tom's stomach, shiny with sweat, and the tattoos across his chest, and watching Tom stroke him expertly, maybe even better than he can do it to himself, then he's arching a couple inches off the bed, pool of come forming on his stomach and dripping down his side onto Tom's bed, and _shit_ , he is wrecked right now, he can barely even breathe.

Tom pulls out and disposes of the condom then flops over half-on Joe, cheek buried in pillows beside Joe's head, but Joe barely even notices; he's still shaking a little and he's _never_ been able to come twice so fast, but that's the effect Tom Fucking Hardy has on him, he supposes.

"Now be a good boy and go home, it's past your bedtime," Tom mumbles next to his ear, eyes closed, and Joe tries to sit up but his abs burn so he stays put. He'll wait it out a few minutes…

Tom is still talking: "'n stop distracting me with your prick on set or I'll be forced to make a real actor out of you," he says.

It sounds like a promise.


End file.
